=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Mixed Greetings Christina Ortega Part 3 =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= The members of the Ku clan were not used to driving. It wasn’t something they did; driving never purified the soul or allowed one to gratify nature. Everything was so...compact...in a car. However, Kukai refused to show his displeasure with missing the opportunity to have a time of spiritual atonement while walking through the cool night breeze on the way back to the Ku’s dojo, instead opting to glance back from the passenger seat at Daikoku and Fujimaru. The larger and more muscular man, Daikoku, shifted the lithe form that was cradled in his arms so that he could be more comfortable before tilting his head as Kukai questioned, “Saicho has passed out again?” “I’m afraid so, Shihan-Dai,” Daikoku responded dully as he took a moment to gaze down at the young teen whose dark brown hair was hanging loosely over one of his eyes. The young Ku master reached an hand up unconsciously and put it close to his heart where he had been injured a while back. Former students of the Ku had returned to the dojo after becoming professional assassins, killing many of those that had been studying there at the time and injuring Saicho to the point that he could only last ten minutes in battle. Kukai remembered the day when he had returned to the dojo finding the door to have been broken through. Misora, his daughter who was the same age as Saicho, had been kneeling with him on the floor, arms wrapped around him as he took no notice of his blood which was soaking through the bandages he had put over the deep cut. Despite the pain, Kukai recalled, the young boy had still forced himself to bow down to him, begging his forgiveness for letting innocent lives be lost and for letting the dojo be ruined. He smiled. Saicho was so innocent, much like Recca. He wasn’t afraid to kill, yet he always took responsibility when anyone died. Saicho stirred in his sleep and opened a drowsy chocolate brown eye, his gaze turning to Daikoku who was looking down at him worriedly. “Daikoku...we...” “You still have about fifteen minutes to rest before we get to the dojo,” the larger and older man told him softly. “Go back to sleep.” Seeing the teen’s reluctance, he sighed. “I don’t mind. Rest.” Saicho nodded slowly and closed his eyes again, curling up into a ball on the car seat and not feeling Daikoku’s arms tighten around his shivering form. Fujimaru, who had been looking out the window during all of this, glanced at Saicho before snorting. “I still can’t believe he couldn’t beat Recca with the Thousand Crane technique! Has his injury really made him so weak!?” He put a hand through his purple mowhawk and sighed, feeling restless in the tight vehicle. “Saicho fought with more honor in the Ura Buto Satsujin than you did, Fujimaru,” Minamino, the dark red haired man who was driving the car, retorted with a warning tone in his voice. “He didn’t give up till the very end, and even when he did he didn’t beg for mercy or try to trick Recca in any way. You, on the other hand, decided to treat Fuuko like a possession, humiliate her in front of everyone, and make a mockery of everything we, the Ku, stand for!” “What the hell do we stand for!?” Fujimaru sneered, his dotted eyes narrowed as he focused on the back of Minamio’s head. “We LOST at the tournament! Daikoku lost to some brat with a sword; I lost by a lucky shot from that bitchy girl; Minamio, you lost to the stupidest guy on the team; Saicho lost because he was too weak to continue; and Kukai fuckin’ wanted Recca to kill him all along--” Kukai had had enough. “We lost to the most noble fighters in that tournament, Fujimaru, and I’ll stand for none of your foulness! Daikoku lost, but he lost honorably and fairly as did Minamio and Saicho. You were cowardly and foolish! Had I known of what you were planning to do to that girl...that high school girl...then I would have tossed you out of the Ku before we even entered the Ura Buto Satsujin!” Arms crossed over his chest in a manner displaying authority, the leader of the Ku turned and faced him, daring Fujimaru to challenge him further. Wisely, he turned to look out the window again, and the argument ended, “What the hell!?” The shocked exclamation from Minamio caught Daikoku off guard, but he didn’t have to ask what was wrong. A puff of smoke and the top of a large blaze could be seen just down the road from where they were. Saicho sat up, startled by Minamio’s outburst, and clutched his wound before staring at the fire in a panic, his mouth agape with shock and horror. “M-Misora...” There was no other place the fire could be coming from except the Ku dojo...it was the only thing so close to them. He felt a pit form in his stomach as he thought of his girlfriend’s life being threatened. Kukai’s eyes were wide as he stared at the flames before turning to Minamio, unconsciously willing him to drive faster which he did. All the while, Kukai’s thoughts were on his daughter who he had left in the care of some of the Ku members that had opted to stay behind and watch the place while they were away. He pictured the tears in her eyes as she had watched them off, fearing that they were going to die... The car reached the gate leading to the Ku grounds in less than ten minutes, and the five filed out of the vehicle only to be met with panicked screams as women, men, and a few children ran about in fear, some calling for lost ones, others having been burned by the fire. A tall man with silky brown hair flowing all the way down his back approached, hazel eyes wild as he stepped towards them. While Minamio and Fujimaru went to get water in order to begin putting out the fire, Kukai moved forward and prepared to question the man that he recognized as Asano Hoshi, the highest level Ku master besides those that had gone to the Ura Buto Satsujin. “Hoshi, what has happened here? Where is my daughter?” “Gomenasai, Shihan-Dai,” Hoshi responded, his voice full of shame and sorrow as he fell to his knees and bowed before his master on the dusty ground. “Everything happened so fast. We couldn’t fight back all of the demons that came after us, and one grabbed Misora, threatened to kill everyone if they weren’t allowed to leave with her, and took her, burning Ku’s ground. I’ve...I’ve failed you, Shihan-Dai, by letting your daughter be taken, but the lives...the lives at stake! I didn’t know what to do, and he didn’t give me the time to come up with an alternate plan!” Saicho’s heart fell at Hoshi’s words. Kukai soaked this information up, the heat of anger making his chest swell. Seeing that Saicho had turned his eyes towards the ground, his face filled with anguish, Kukai slowly touched his shoulder making the teen jump involuntarily. “Help Fujimaru and Minamio. We will get her back.” Obviously, the boy bought his ‘calmness’ routine. Either that, or he was in too much of a daze to care if he was lying or not. Saicho wandered off to find water with Daikoku following him. “Hoshi.” The man looked up, eyebrows raised questioningly as he wiped the tears from his eyes. “We were able to keep our elemental weapons despite our loss at the tournament. Repair any damages to them and have them ready in two days time. We will find my daughter and get revenge...” His eyes darkened, “...whatever the cost may be.” *** Koenma chewed on his Fuukamen thoughtfully as he looked at the images on the screen at the back of the room. Unusually high levels of youki in the area...lots of youkai around the Ningenkai...these readings were not good. Not good at all. This could be real trouble. As if one or two evil youkai weren’t bad enough to deal with, this level of youki indicated that an army of demons was lurking in the Ningenkai. Adjusting the large hat on his head, Koenma looked up as George came to stand next to his desk, a large stack of papers in his hands. The god could only watch in astonishment as George announced that these were the latest reports of weird occurrences and graphs illustrating the levels of youki measured within the last 48 hours. “Baka oni! Do you think I have time to read all of THAT!?” Koenma questioned with fury and annoyance as he knocked the papers off of his desk. As a few stray sheets floated past him while he remained seated in his large chair, George drying desperately to reorganize the pile, Koenma clenched his tiny fists with concern and anger. “I need Botan and the tantei in here RIGHT NOW!!” =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= O-wa-ri! More coming soon! =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=